


all the truth in the world

by banrion_rua



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, The Gangs All Here, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:06:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banrion_rua/pseuds/banrion_rua
Summary: collection of one shots and ficlets. all the ships, canonverse, au, modern day, whatever floats your ship. send prompts my way.1. the church was plan b (the office au with bellarke as jim & pam)2. I had you. (canon-verse, post 5x05, bellarke)





	1. the church was plan b

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: Bellamy and Clarke as Jim and Pam 
> 
> (*hitting me with two of my top all time OTPs....ruin me forever, why don't ya.)

In retrospect, they should’ve expected this, really.

This wedding was proving to be one shit-show after another, from Jasper tearing his scrotum at the dance party the night before in Monty’s hotel room (splits and keys in pockets were never a good idea) and Clarke (the only sober person left in the hotel) having to spend the night at the ER with him, to Murphy getting banned from the hotel bar approximately five minutes into the night for howling like a wolf and trying to steal three bottles of Jack Daniels, and even to Bellamy himself, who did the one thing they were afraid every and anyone else would do: spill the beans about Clarke’s pregnancy at the rehearsal dinner, in front of her extremely conservative grandmother, Mee-Maw, who then called Clarke a jezebel before refusing to come to the wedding ceremony.

Still, it was hard to put a damper on the day he’d been waiting just about his whole life for.

If someone had told Bellamy Blake five years ago that he’d be marrying the pretty blonde from reception at Factory Station Paper Company, he would have laughed in their face, and then all the way home, too.

Because life wasn’t that good and kind to him, historically, and because timing was a bitch. For years, she had a boyfriend (fiance, if he was being honest) - Finn, the ass of the century who worked down in the warehouse. And Bellamy, he’d just been a kid from the other side of the tracks looking for a steady enough job to get him and his sister by after his mother died. 

So, for a long time, he’d been content to just be her friend. She was his best friend, and God, he was lucky for even that. He came into work everyday thankful for that much. It was a shitty job at a shitty little paper company, and somehow, he still loved every minute of it because of her. She’d changed everything.

It took years, and a lot of waiting (he was a Blake, and patience wasn’t natural to them), and sometimes he thought he’d suffocate from the heavy weight on his chest that threatened to explode more and more everyday as he fell deeper in love with her.

But somewhere, somehow, along the way, his luck changed. She caught Finn with his other girlfriend, Raven, and from there on out, she was short a fiance and had gained a friend. He’d moved away to another branch to try to move on before it all went to hell, then moved back months later when branches merged, with Echo in tow, and it didn’t take Echo all that long to realize he loved her, sure, but not with his whole heart, not the way he loved the receptionist he was always planning pranks on Jasper with, and not the way Echo deserved to be loved. That crumbled, too.

It took tearful confessions and entirely too much time, but somewhere, somehow, he finally got the girl.

The girl he was fifteen minutes away from calling his wife.

So, yeah, despite all the craziness, despite the chaos of inviting their entire office and two mismatched, overbearing families, none of whom listened to their do’s and do not’s for the wedding….he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

He was kicking around a soccer ball outside the chapel with Ethan, their ringbearer - Wells Jaha’s foster son and the light of Thelonious’ eyes - when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He couldn’t even stop the stupid grin that came at seeing her name pop up with the photo of her licking frosting off his cheek from Fourth of July last summer.

God, he was a _goner_.

“Are you sure there aren’t any rules against calling me right before we go into the church, Princess? Wouldn’t want to jinx it this late in the game...not sure we could get any of the deposits back at this point.”

“Probably not.” The smile dropped from his face and his stomach sank as soon as he heard her broken voice, sniffles on the other end. “Can you just...come here, please?” She sounded so small, so unlike herself, and he took off before she even hung up, rushing through the back doors of the church to find her.

_Please don’t tell me she’s changed her mind. Oh shit, what if it’s the baby? What if something’s wrong? Please, please…._

He practically skidded into the small room they’d given her to wait in, finding her sitting on a piano bench sniffling, but even through all his worry - he froze.

Because there was Clarke Griffin, dressed in white, looking more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. He was sure he didn’t deserve her, or any of this, but he was thanking every one of the gods, anyway.

“ _Wow_ ,” he breathed out. “Clarke, you look….wow.”

She let out a watery laugh, “I look like shit.”

He walked over and sat down beside her, thighs pressed against each other, and gently reached out his hand, brushing his thumb against her cheek, feather-light. “Clarke Griffin, I’m not sure you could ever look like shit even if you tried. You look... _so_  beautiful, Princess.”

“No, I don’t,” she said miserably, swiping at her eyes gently, trying not to ruin the makeup Octavia had done for her earlier. “I knew when we found out about the baby that I wouldn’t be able to wear the perfect dress o-or high heels, and that was okay, really, but now I tore my veil and that was the one thing I could control and I just….”

He tried not to show his relief that it was just the veil and not something more serious like his paranoid mind had immediately jumped to, but she still looked so miserable and he’d give anything to make her smile, especially today.

His eyes landed on scissors on the desk to their right behind him, and he reached out, grabbed them, and cut his black tie in half.

Her eyes widened, “ _Bellamy_! ”

“Now we’re even,” he shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face. Her eyes shone with more tears, but she was starting to smile, at least. She lifted her hands, motioning a camera click - they’d promised each other to take mental pictures of all the best moments this weekend, something Vera Kane had suggested to them. It was a joke at first, but this?

This she’d remember forever.

He leaned forward, kissing her forehead gently and resting a hand on her barely-there baby bump hidden under the silk of her dress. She sighed and melted into the touch, and he could feel the tension rolling off her body, finally. “They’re all driving me insane, Bell. Jasper and my mom and Thelonious and everyone....I thought this day was supposed to be our day, you know?”

He knew. And honestly, how could they have expected any differently? God love them all, they really were good people, they were just  _a lot_ to handle, their friends and family. She was right. Their wedding was supposed to be about them.

This? All this pomp and circumstance, all the decor and frill,  _it wasn’t_   _them_.

He stood then, having made up his mind, and reached out a hand to her, wordlessly. She looked up at him with furrowed brows, but he just smirked.

“Bellamy, what…”

“Do you trust me?” She gave him an unimpressed and still entirely confused look, but put her own hand in his, letting him help her up. He might be crazy, too, but she trusted him more than anyone in the world. That’d been a given a long, long time ago.

“What are you up to, Blake?”

He gave her a quick kiss, still smirking into it. “You’ll see.”

* * *

“Oh my god.”

He closed the passenger door behind her as she got out of the car, jaw still dropped at his surprise. How could they have a destination wedding in Niagara Falls without stopping at the actual falls?

Besides, he’d heard somewhere that boat captains could help them out with the whole marriage thing.

They’d left everyone behind at the church - they’d still be there when they got back, but who cared? This day was about him and his wife.

They could figure the rest out later.

He slipped the tickets from the inside of his tux jacket, and they pulled their blue plastic ponchos over their wedding clothes and walked onto the Maid of the Mist hand in hand. Maybe this wasn’t the grand, majestic affair that Abby Griffin had pictured for her only daughter, or the ‘poppin’ wedding of the century’ that Jasper had certainly planned to dance down the aisle at (they’d found his YouTube playlist of “Best Wedding Entrances Ever - Bellarke Wedding?” the week they’d gotten engaged), but this?

This finally felt _right_.

Sprays from the waterfall rained on them just as the captain came out and performed their little ceremony, splashing them from head to toe and making Clarke laugh, carefree and blissfully. (Bellamy reckoned it was the best sound in the world, only to later be tied with the sound of their daughter's first cries when she’s born.) 

He lifted his hands, taking a mental picture, and whether the wetness on his cheeks was from the water or his own tears of pure joy, he couldn’t be sure, but her face looked just the same.

When he kissed her for the first time as his wife, he was sure, for the first time ever, that fate was real, that someone in the great wide universe had been looking out for him after all, because life had led him to Clarke Griffin, and they belonged to each other now.

He said as much a little later as they stood at the front of the ship, her leaning into his side, head resting on his shoulder. She turned to look up at him before leaning up to kiss him again, and it was slow and soft and as magical as the thousands of other kisses they’d shared before, and the millions he planned to keep sharing with her for the rest of their lives.

“Thank you for everything, Bell. For being you. For marrying me. For this plan B of yours….I can’t imagine a more perfect day,” she all but whispered, and he kissed her cold, wet forehead, not able to stop touching her, to stop reminding himself this was all real.

“This wasn’t plan B,” he clarified after a beat. She looked up, that crease between her brows back, confusion written on her face. “Plan B was the church. This was actually Plan C.”

“What was Plan A?”

He turned to her fully now, moving a stray piece of damp hair from her face and gazing at her with all the love in the world. The whole world might exist out there, but in that moment, she swore there was no one else but them, in this moment here and now, and if she could pick one moment to live in for the rest of her life, she knew it would be this very one.

“Plan A was marrying you a long, long time ago. Pretty much the day I met you,” he said, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it, and she choked on a happy sob, kissing him again because of all the billions of women in the world, she, Clarke Griffin, knew what it was like to be wholly, completely, unconditionally loved by Bellamy Blake.

* * *

They were over an hour late to their own wedding ceremony at the church, nearly soaked, hair wild and ruined, veil torn, tie cut, and never happier.

When Jasper winked at Monty, and turned on his iPod to ‘Forever’, they couldn’t even find it in them to be upset. Harper quickly apologized to Clarke, knowing this had been explicitly on the Do-Not-Playlist, but Clarke just smiled, telling her to go on.

She looked up to the altar, locking eyes with her husband, and he shook his head with a little shrug. She reached her hands up and took another mental picture.

_Yeah. This is perfect._


	2. I had you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> follow up to that fireside bellarke chat. canon-verse, post 5.05. because I can't get clarke's look out of my head, and I'm feeling angsty.

Clarke had stopped kidding herself a long time ago.

 

Because that was the funny thing about being alone (save for a child to pre-teen nightblood) for six years. She’d had time to really think and reflect on some shit, on everything that had happened in that year on the ground with her family and friends a lifetime ago. It was all she’d had - _time_.

 

And in that time, she’d fully accepted that she loved Bellamy Blake. It was that simple. On some level, she had for a long, long time now. He was her co-leader, her partner, the only other person on this godforsaken planet who really understood the guilt she carried with her everyday, the burden that had gotten heavier and heavier each day, and who didn’t demand perfection from her at every turn. They could push back against each other and still, somehow, at the end of the day, know that they had each other’s backs unconditionally, that even when they disagreed, they still _trusted_ each other, even when they didn’t always deserve that much.

 

She loved him, despite the moments when he’d driven her mad, despite the times he’d rushed into situations heart first, despite any mistakes he’d made, because he did the same for her. (It was their thing, forgiving each other when the rest of the world didn’t.)

 

So when he’d come - _of course he had -_ just in time to bargain for her life from Diyoza and the Eligius crew (“she is,” played over and over on a loop in her heart), when he’d rushed into the holding room and gathered her in his arms, she’d thanked every god out there that he was _alive_ , and _real_ , and _home_ , because she _loved_ him (and despite that curse, he’d _lived_ ).

 

It was because of that simple fact that the wind had been knocked out of her when she saw Echo run into his arms and kiss him, him kissing back like it was a familiar routine.

 

She knew, of course, that things had changed. He was different. (She was, too.) It had been _six years_ , of course things and relationships had evolved, and on some level, she knew that, and she was glad he hadn’t been all alone. Really.

 

It didn’t soothe the aching in her chest. (It’d been so long, she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to dare to hope and watch it all burn in front of her eyes.)

 

He found her the next night, back at the Polis ruins. Madi was sound asleep in the back of the Rover, and she laid out on the front hood, staring at the stars and trying to ignore the weight that had settled in her chest. She heard his footsteps - God, she could still tell they were his without even looking - before she saw him from the corner of her eye. She kept her eyes trained on the sky.

 

It was a few seconds before he spoke, the air thick between them. He leaned back against the front of the car, by the spot where her feet were planted on the hood, and she could picture it without even looking at him - jaw clenched, arms crossed, shoulders high and tense.

 

“I spent six years waiting to get back down here to find my sister,” he finally said, voice low. “Six years. Here I am, and I still don’t think I’ve found her.”

 

“A lot has changed,” she answered. He glanced back, but her eyes were still intent on the sky above them.

 

 _Here you are, and I’ve never felt like you were further away_. She couldn’t help but think it. God knows she was grateful that he was back, and whole and mostly okay, but right now, she’d never felt so out of place with him.

 

She hated it.

 

They were silent for another minute, all the unspoken words hanging heavy between them.

 

She hated that, too.

 

“I lied earlier,” she said, finally, sitting up straight and pulling her knees to her chest, finally watching him. He turned his body more toward hers, brows furrowed but waiting for her to go. “You asked me how I did, how I survived alone, and I said - I said I wasn’t alone, that I had Madi.”

 

There was a shakiness to her voice, and she tried to blink back the tears that were prickling at her eyes. She had to get this out, because if she didn’t now, she never would. He had to know. It was selfish, maybe, but she needed this.

 

“I radioed you, you know. Every day for the past 2,199 days, I radioed _you_. Not Raven, or Murphy or Monty. You. I didn’t know if you could hear me, or if you guys were even alive still, but every single day I would try. I would tell you about what me and Madi did that day, or how fucking hard it was to fix something on the Rover without you or Raven there to help, or how all I could hear was you scolding me in my head when I was trying to hunt and I’d scare off some animal with my heavy footsteps. Even when I knew you wouldn’t answer, I think...I think it kept me sane, maybe. Talking to you. It gave me hope.”

 

She’d never seen heartbreak so clearly on his face, and she had to look away for a second as he processed her words. “Clarke, I didn’t - “

 

She cut him off with a shake of her head, her lip trembling slightly. She bit down on it. “So I lied, earlier. I wasn’t alone. I had Madi. And...I had you.”

 

He reached out for her, but she’d already scooted to slide off the side of the hood, swiping at her eyes quickly. He stepped toward her as soon as her boots touched down, his hand reaching out for her. Maybe he’d learned how to use his head up there, but he still wore his heart on his sleeve, at least when it came to her, and the pain she saw was too much.

 

“I thought you were dead,” he croaked out. _I’m so sorry._ She knew that, she’d known that all along, but him saying it now - he was explaining himself. Explaining the kiss earlier, the soft looks him and Echo had given each other, painfully familiar and gentle.

 

She gave him a watery smile. _It’s okay, Bellamy._ “You said I saved you guys, but...you saved me, too, you know?” She reached out for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “ _Thank you._ And, for what it’s worth...I’m glad you weren’t alone, either.”

 

Her voice broke as she said those last words out loud, words she meant, she really did, even if it hurt like hell to see. Because if there was anything in the world that Bellamy Blake deserved, it was to feel loved, even if it wasn’t her who got to openly love him, wholly and completely as she did.

 

“Clarke,” he whispered, not sure what else he could say but knowing he was _scared_ _,_ to lose her, to hurt her. “I’m so - “

 

She pulled up their conjoined hands, and tuned his palm towards her, and kissed it softly, a few stray, traitorous tears dripping down to his hand. “Goodnight, Bell.”

 

He watched her walk off toward the back of the Rover, climbing in and shutting the door, and couldn’t help but remember the last time she’d kissed him and walked away after Mount Weather.

 

(His heart broke just the same.)  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos welcome. find me on tumblr (banrionrua). x


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